An Officer and a Soldier
by Darbracken
Summary: 1940s Human AU. It's a sleepy village, not many crimes get committed and there's often little to do. How will Arthur cope when his world collides with the inhuman whirlwind that is Alfred F Jones? This is from the same AU that my Ludwig x Arthur 'Time Slips By' fic is from. It's unlikely that I'll write more of this but I wanted to post it.


The first time Arthur met Alfred F Jones was a chilly November morning at around 7am. Alfred was slumped in the corner of the cell, one of two in the rural police station. The American groaned as Arthur briskly bustled him out into the corridor and up to the main desk. Slipping to the other side of the oak antique Arthur briskly flicked through papers until he found the one he required, left by the previous night's duty sergeant.

"Name."

"Alfred F Jones, the F is for fabulous."

A bushy brow rose as he took in the dishevelled army uniform, the dark rings around his eyes and the faint stench of alcohol that permeated from around the male. "You're not looking fabulous right now son, I'll tell you that for nothing." An elbow propped itself to the desk to prevent the American from lurching, a little green around the gills from last night's ill advised events.

"Age?" "21" A little too quick, another silence as critical eyes passed down the frame. No older than 19 he would wager, if he was old enough to go to war though he was old enough to drink. In another setting, Arthur mused, he might have even found the American slightly appealing. Having spent a night in the cells charged with being drunk and disorderly, though, was not a good way to introduce oneself to the village's local policeman.

Rolling his pen thoughtfully he weighed up the infantry man before he scribbled a note on the file and flicked the pen tip at him. "You can go." Unusual azure eyes pinned him, seeming to spark to life as he spoke. Had he ever seen eyes so blue? So striking? If he had he didn't remember. "You mean it? Oh man you're so awesome, I was totally shitting it. It would have totally pissed off my platoon if I'd been charged. You Brits are totally the best ever!"

Words were slurred in an accent that made Arthur's nose crinkle with distaste. Forget appealing, 'Mr. Fabulous' was beginning to grate on his nerves, though that wasn't too difficult first thing in the morning. "Right, well don't let this happen again." Having given him a stern ticking off his head bent over the stack of papers for all of the ten seconds it took to release the American was still standing there staring at him. "What? I told you, you could leave." Letting the 'get out' hang in the air he glanced back down, though from the corner of his eyes he saw the other rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, thanks man. Totally saved my ass." Quietly the other stumbled out into the crisp morning air, hopefully that would shake off the last of his drink induced haziness. Leaning back Arthur twirled the pen idly, picking up the charge sheet to read through it again. It happened from time to time, American service personnel would get a little too rambunctious and end up spending a little time at her majesty's pleasure. More often than not after a brief scolding they would get sent on their way to face their commanders for a more stern reprimand.

At least it had broken up the tedium of his day. Very little happened in the sleepy village and other than the odd lost cat there was little that Arthur had to tend to. Tilting back he closed his eyes, running through the events of the day thus far. Stumbling out of his bed he'd almost fallen over his cat, then the bath had been quick and mostly cold. He'd dressed, combed his hair and finally he'd met Alfred. A dull sigh ached in his throat. It was wrong, utterly wrong but it was something he'd realised was not going to just disappear.

Arthur liked men. It was something he'd never spoken of, not even to his older brothers who were close before they had gone to war. It just wasn't something that was ever acknowledged. Perhaps that was why in part he'd cloistered himself in the tiny village on the south coast, so many miles from home. Arthur had always known he was gay but he'd also resigned himself to the fact he'd either whittle away his life alone or end up in a broken marriage only for the purpose of having children. It was all startling normal and English.

Alfred though wasn't English, he was from a world that whispered of freedom yet hadn't quite broken into the new era of equality. Alfred was American, blatantly so and Arthur couldn't help but wonder if his kind was viewed with just as much vehement distrust and dislike as they were in his own country. It wasn't as though he'd come into contact with the American again so Arthur was at leisure to fantasise if only a little that America was free, that they might touch, hold hands or even kiss without running the risk of violence.

Of course Alfred would be straight. Another weary sigh followed before the shrill call of the telephone drew him from his reverie, perhaps not a moment too soon.

"Ah good morning Mrs. Smith, why yes it is a pleasant day."

A pause.

"They have, have they? Well don't you worry, I'll come round right away and have a look for you."

Not a day went by without dear old Mrs. Smith calling him. She was an older lady of around 60, her husband had passed before the war and both her sons had been called up for duty. In summary she was lonely and it seemed Arthur had become her favourite. Often she would call him on some pretence, a broken gate, missing milk or a hunch based on some gossip she'd heard. Arthur didn't mind though, she always baked a little treat which she would conveniently have ready for when he arrived. At least it passed an hour and he didn't have to prepare breakfast.


End file.
